


Variation 10. Fughetta a 1 Clav.

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Naked Female Clothed Male, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-22 18:06:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Hannibal Lecter is a centuries-old vampire who finally feels the urge to sire another. Abigail Hobbs shows potential.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After centuries of solitude, vampire Hannibal Lecter decides to make himself a companion.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter was a respected and popular member of Baltimore high society. He wore expensive, often patterned suits that would make most men look ridiculous. He was fluent in several languages, but only he knew the exact number. He was a connoisseur of wine and fine foods, and could cook most of the delicacies he loved just as well as a gourmet chef. Those who had not attended his dinner parties envied those who had. Hannibal could also deliver a more informed and engaging lecture on classical music and art than many professors considered to be experts.

His other talents gained him the admiration of those less inclined to snobbery. Dr. Lecter was an immigrant to the United States, though it was difficult to tell his motherland from his accent. He had been a successful surgeon before the death of a patient caused him to shift careers to an even more successful one as a psychiatrist. Medical journals frequently published his articles on a variety of topics. 

For someone so well-liked, Hannibal was a very private man. Women suggested to him that it must get lonely being the only one in that big house of his. Certain men did as well. Lecter usually deflected these sorts of comments with the grace of a harpsichord in a French Baroque piece. However, after about 400 years of solitude, he had begun to hear the emptiness behind the echoes in his hallways. His bed was regularly too cold for comfort. He savored the heat of his victims’ blood more than he had since after he was first sired. When others unknowingly ate the hearts, brains, livers, and other organs of those whose lives he had sucked out of them in the night, Hannibal found he was unsatisfied with the experience. He realized that he wanted, with increasing strength; to entirely consume every victim himself, in a way that transcended the physical.

At long last the time had come for him to sire, to bring a new person into the ranks of the undead. 

Lecter, unusually self-contained even in his mortal life so long ago, had avoided this urge for many years. He often took on human protégés, most recently Alana Bloom, to fulfill any creeping desire to continue his legacy through another. Briefly, he considered taking one of the high society women who fawned over him as a long-term lover. When none were deemed suitable, he just as briefly considered the men. 

When it finally seemed to Dr. Lecter that he should stop putting off the inevitable and choose someone to turn, a newspaper article on the Minnesota Shrike murders caught his attention. The man – he knew it was a man, though the police were still unsure – had already killed three young women, and if Hannibal had not been so preoccupied he would have noticed the case earlier. The Minnesota Shrike seemed like a chance to forget the whole issue of siring. Judging from the wonderfully inventive tableaux of the women, barely out of girlhood, impaled on deer’s antlers, this killer was a man with taste compatible to Hannibal’s own. And the missing organs of the victims… could the Shrike be another vampire with a fondness for human flesh as well as blood? This opportunity for much-desired companionship was too much to pass up. 

After his last appointment on Friday, Lecter boarded a plane and began his own investigation of the Minnesota Shrike murders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Abigail this chapter, but we will meet her in the next one. I can't promise anything, but this fic may also feature Alana, Will, Jack, Freddie, and maybe other characters in the future.


	2. The Maiden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Lecter meets the Minnesota Shrike and his daughter.

Hannibal Lecter had learned by now how to avoid detection. This made him very good at locating those who did not want to be found. After two weeks of amateur but skilled detective work, he discovered that the Minnesota Shrike was Garrett Jacob Hobbs. A blue collar worker, resident of a woodsy suburb, outdoorsman, hunting enthusiast, and devoted husband and father, Hobbs was certainly a cannibal. However, he did not exhibit qualities that tended to correlate with vampirism, unless he had been turned within the past decade or so.

Sitting on the cotton sheets of the bed in the cleanest motel room he had been able to discreetly pay cash for, Dr. Lecter turned the burner cell phone over in his hand. Hobbs was most likely a run-of-the-mill serial killer, but there was a chance he was a recently-sired vampire. If that was the case, perhaps Hannibal could mentor him; teach him a lifestyle more fitting to his demonic nature. Garrett Jacob Hobbs was clearly murdering young women who resembled his daughter Abigail in an effort to fight the urge to kill her. Letting go of mortal attachments through disposing of the girl would be Lesson One of Lecter’s mentorship.

He retrieved Hobbs’s home telephone number from the halls of his memory and dialed it into the temporary cell phone. 

“Hello?” answered a voice that must belong to that young temptress, Abigail.

“Hello, may I speak to Garrett Jacob Hobbs, please?” 

After a moment, an adult male said, “Hello?”

“Mr. Garrett Jacob Hobbs?”

“Yes, who is this?”

“You don’t know me, but we may meet in the near future,” Hannibal said. “Are you alone?”

Hobbs’s voice quavered almost imperceptively as he answered, “No.”

“Then you will want to get out of earshot of your family.”

There was a pause, then the sound of Hobbs walking upstairs and closing a door. “What do you want?”

The tone of the impolitely blunt question was a giveaway that the man had something to hide. If Lecter ended up mentoring him, the relationship would be difficult at the outset, but ultimately fulfilling on a personal level.

“There is no need to be afraid, Mr. Hobbs. As you have certainly guessed by now, I know.” Lecter allowed a moment to let that sink in. “I do not plan on alerting the authorities.”

Hobbs was trying to control his breathing. “What do you plan on doing?”

“I think I may have found in you a kindred spirit. I have noticed that you consume the bodies of your kills.”

“I have to honor every part of them.”

A moral code. Unless Hobbs had been abandoned by his sire and forced to cope with his vampirism completely on his own, he was a living, breathing serial killer. However, as the American idiom so quaintly stated, close only counted in horseshoes and hand grenades. Hannibal was not about to walk away from weeks of work when there was still some small possibility that Hobbs was what he was looking for.

“Mr. Hobbs, this question may seem foolish if your answer is no, but are you dead?”

A moment of silence, then, “Oh god, I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“I knew it was wrong to feel this way about her. I knew; I wouldn’t have killed those girls if I didn’t know. What was I supposed to do? I can’t control what I feel!” Hobbs’s voice rose with desperation. “But I didn’t do anything to her! I didn’t lay a hand on her. But you’re still coming to get me. I’m still going to get dragged into Hell by some goddamn- some goddamn-“

Hobbs did not seem able to pick a noun, so Hannibal volunteered, “Vampire. Your emphasis on the state of my soul is accurate.”

The doctor smirked at the hysterical giggle from the man who he now planned to kill later that night. “At least she knows,” Hobbs assured himself. “She’ll always know I did this for her.”

This was the first surprising thing Lecter had learned on his investigation. “Your daughter knows how you feel about her?”

“I told her I was doing what I had to so that she could survive,” said Hobbs with the honesty of a dead man. “I told her what would happen if I couldn’t get what I needed, and Abigail- oh, Abigail, my little hunter- she understood. She knows how much I love my little girl.”

Here at last was an interesting twist in the sordid tale of the Minnesota Shrike. The little butcher bird’s talons were sharper than they looked, and with them she had a death grip on life. Perhaps this trip would turn out to be worthwhile after all. “She helped you. She chose to preserve herself,” stated Hannibal.

“She did what she had to do.”

Abigail Hobbs was a survivor. When faced with death or damnation, she chose the latter. Lecter had made a similar choice centuries ago on a moonless night in a Lithuanian forest. He had seen his reflection for the last time in an obsidian lake, heard his heart beat in his ears just before he, the last surviving member of the hunting party, turned to face the monster that had taken his comrades. The monster was more beautiful and terrible than anything he had ever seen, and it saw in him something worth corrupting and preserving for eternity.

“Then I’m afraid, Mr. Hobbs, that for her part in assisting you with your murders, I will have to punish dear Abigail as well.”

After abruptly ending the call, Hannibal continued to sit on the bed for a moment, his eyes closed. Garrett Jacob Hobbs was cornered. Normally, in this type of situation, the doctor would now give his prey a head start, to give them the illusion that there was a chance of escape. But Hobbs was far more vicious than his normal prey. Hannibal opened his eyes and left the motel.

______

It was just after 11 p.m. when Lecter arrived at the Hobbs family’s residence carrying an official-looking manila folder. A young woman answered the door, somewhat suspicious of this man who had come calling at such a late hour. Her fair, even pale skin was a sharp contrast to her long, dark hair. Her large, blue eyes suggested innocence, but the truly perceptive could see the predator’s instinct hiding behind the youthful naiveté. Abigail.

“Can I help you?”

“Good evening, Abigail. I believe we spoke on the phone earlier. It is Abigail, isn’t it? I’ve heard so much about you from your father. I’m the attorney for the construction company he worked for.” Hannibal held up the manila folder. “I just came by with some documents for him to sign. He was a bit too eager to get his exit interview over with and missed some things. May I come in?”

“Yeah, of course,” said Abigail, opening the door wider.

“Thank you,” said Hannibal, crossing the threshold.

As she locked the door, Abigail said, “My dad’s upstairs. If you want to wait in the kitchen or something, I’ll go get him for you.”

Garrett Jacob Hobbs was not upstairs, but was hiding just around the corner with a hunting knife. He swiftly grabbed his daughter and held the knife to her throat. Abigail gasped, her eyes wide with fear and remarkably little surprise. Similar situations were common in her nightmares.

“You won’t take her,” Hobbs snarled, and cut open her throat. 

Abigail and the knife fell to the floor as Hobbs was pinned to the wall. Lecter sunk his fangs into the man’s neck and drained him in seconds. Now on to the far more pressing matter of the girl on the floor. Her breathing was shallow and quick as blood poured from her neck. Lecter knelt and gently placed a hand on her neck, red escaping in rushing rivulets between his fingers. 

“Do you want to live?” he asked, looking into her wide, blue eyes.

She could not nod or make any sound, but Abigail, fighting with all her rapidly diminishing strength, moved her lips to form the word "yes."

Without further preamble, Hannibal bit down on Abigail’s throat, teeth on either side of the wound that was the last scar her father would ever leave on her. The demon drank her blood until she was on the very brink of death, then drew back and picked up Hobbs’s hunting knife. Hannibal quickly rolled up his sleeve, slit his left wrist, and held it to Abigail’s mouth. “Drink.”

Abigail drank desperately, using her last remnants of strength. The blood was metallic and odd in her throat, but she latched onto the man’s wrist and swallowed as much as she could. When he pulled his arm away, her vision began to fade. She realized she had never been this tired in her entire life. She needed a good night’s sleep, then she would be good as new.

The last sight of Abigail Hobbs’s mortal life was her mother in pajamas, coming downstairs.


	3. Mom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail starts her first night as a vampire by forging new family ties and cutting old ones.

When Abigail Hobbs opened her eyes her bedroom was dark. The red digital alarm clock numbers told her it was 6:48 pm. Her eyes flicked from the clock to the window – someone had tacked one of the spare sheets over it, the pink and white striped one that she had used on her bed when she was younger. Someone had been holding her hand while she was sleeping, and that person (most likely her dad) now withdrew his hand from hers. She sat up and turned to face him, and it was a stranger.

But not a complete stranger. The memory of the previous night crawled to the front of Abigail’s mind, and she scrambled backwards, away from the man sitting by her bed. She was not horrified by the events that led to her father’s death, she realized. And her death. This man had killed her father, and then killed her… no, she had been dying, and he had asked her… and then he had –

“Good evening, Abigail,” the man said, causing her racing thoughts to skid to a halt. He was completely calm. That was scared her, really, not the bloody memories of the night before.

“I have no intention to harm you,” the man continued. “You are safe with me.”

“You saved me,” Abigail said. She placed a hand on her chest, over her heart. There was no heartbeat. “Am I dead? I’m… I’m undead. I’m a vampire.”

She looked to him for confirmation, and the man gave her the slightest of nods.

“What’s your name?” was the next question that came to her mind.

“My name is Dr. Hannibal Lecter.”

“You’re a vampire and a doctor?” Abigail wondered how he could stand to look at blood on a regular basis and not feed on his patients. Even remembering the feeling of her own blood pouring out of her neck made her hungry. She briefly reflected on how much this would disturb her if she was still human.

“A psychiatrist. There is significantly less temptation. However, I have built up much more self-control over the years than you currently possess, and could work in a hospital if I wanted.”

Hannibal Lecter sat beside her bed in a chair he must have carried up from the kitchen. He was dressed in the most beautiful and expensive-looking suit she had ever seen. Abigail was good at reading people, especially after her dad had gotten scary and she had to be constantly on her toes. (Today he would kill a girl that looked like her so that he didn’t have to kill her, but what about tomorrow?) Hannibal Lecter could not be read. He sat there perfectly still, and perfectly opaque. 

“Why?” Abigail asked, a little too loudly. “Why me? Why did you kill my dad and save me? Why did you even come to our house in the first place?”

“After many years alone, I desired companionship. I thought your father-“ 

“Was a vampire? Because he was killing those girls?”

“Please do not interrupt, Abigail,” he said. 

She could tell he hadn’t liked that at all. Abigail wondered what he expected from her. How was she supposed to act around him, to treat him? He had made her a vampire… was he like her father now? She had read Dracula a few years ago, and she remembered the “sisters,” Dracula’s vampire brides who seduced the hero. Was she supposed to be like one of them?

Abigail realized she should have responded to him before now. He was looking at her, and she wasn’t sure she liked him watching her yet. She wondered if her eyes looked dead like his now that she was a vampire. “I’m sorry, Dr. Lecter,” she said, deciding to use the variation of his name that indicated the most respect.

“It’s quite alright, Abigail. I realize this is a lot for you to take in. If you would allow me to continue…?”

She nodded earnestly.

“As you surmised, I believed your father might be a vampire due to the aesthetic appeal of his murders. It was mostly wishful thinking on my part, I’m afraid. I tracked down his identity and location, and I called your house. Upon speaking to your father, I quickly realized that he was not a vampire, but the things he told me about you led me to think that you would make an exceptional one.”

“Because I lured those girls for him?” Abigail said. Yesterday she could not have even considered that sentence without being crippled by guilt. Now she could think about it and feel nothing.

“Because you fought for your survival,” said Dr. Lecter. “You fought as well as you could to protect yourself in a hopeless situation. Not everyone will drink when offered blood on their deathbed. And I thought you would appreciate a new life, with new power.”

“Wow,” she breathed.

He turned up the corners of his mouth at her, and she smiled back.

Dr. Lecter stood and offered her his hand. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” he said, “But first things first. Are you hungry?”

Abigail was sure she had never been so hungry in her entire existence. “Starving,” she replied, taking his hand and getting out of bed. Her clothes were splattered with blood from the night when she had died, and it embarrassed her. “Um, do you mind if I change my clothes first?”

“Not at all. Come downstairs when you’re ready and there will be food for you.”

Dr. Lecter left the room, and Abigail stared at the door for a moment after he closed it behind him. She was a vampire now. She would live forever, in a body that looked eighteen years old forever, and drink human blood. At least, she guessed that was right, but she was still so unsure about what she was. Could she go into to sunlight? Could she only be killed with a stake to the heart? What about turning into a bat, or going near garlic? Dr. Lecter would be able to answer all her questions, she told herself. Take it one step at a time. Just change your clothes and go downstairs.

Abigail turned to the full length mirror on her closet door to check her hair. There was no reflection. Oh. Well, okay. She discarded her bloody clothes and put on black underwear. It seemed more vampire-appropriate. That felt like kind of a ditzy thought to have, but she stuck with it. She put on jeans and a red sweater and finger-combed her hair until it felt normal.

She found Dr. Lecter standing by the kitchen table, next to her mom. Her mother sat at the place where Abigail’s dad usually did, with duct tape over her mouth and her hands presumably tied or duct taped behind her. Her eyes were wide and red from crying and she made noises when Abigail entered the room.

“Hi, Mom,” Abigail said. It was funny the way that she still felt something for her mother. It was like her old self had given her words to say and Abigail was mindlessly repeating them; they were there, but not with the same impact as the original. She looked to Dr. Lecter. “Am – am I supposed to eat her?”

“You can do whatever you like, Abigail,” said Dr. Lecter over her mom’s unintelligible pleas, “But I strongly recommend that you choose your mother as your first kill. She is your most significant tie to your mortal life, and will most likely report you to the police. Even if you allow her to live and she keeps your secret, I cannot imagine the rest of her life will be very happy.”

Abigail looked at her mom, bound and crying, and knew that Dr. Lecter was right. Besides, she just so hungry…

“How do I do this?” Abigail asked him, walking to her mother’s side. She leaned down to get closer to her neck. “Do I just…?”

Dr. Lecter was behind her now. “Just go to bite down on her neck; aim for the jugular vein. It will come naturally.”

Abigail followed his instructions. As her teeth touched her mother’s throat, she felt canines grow into fangs and pierce the soft skin. Barely registering the muffled screams of her victim, Abigail drank, relishing the sensation of warm blood coursing down her throat. Dr. Lecter crouched beside her, rubbing circles on her back.

When she was done, her mother’s corpse slumped in the chair. Abigail felt warm and nearly giddy. Dr. Lecter removed his hand from her back and she didn’t want him to. “That was –“ she began, smiling and breathing heavily. Breathing must be a reflex or a habit or something, she thought vaguely. “That was really good.”

She turned to Dr. Lecter and he was smiling too.


	4. Hunger and Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail moves into Dr. Lecter's house, and the nature of their relationship begins to develop.

Dr. Lecter’s house was too big for one person. It was bigger than the house Abigail had lived in with her family all her life. She tried not to stare at anything as she followed Dr. Lecter, who was carrying her suitcase, to the guest bedroom. Like everything else in the house, Abigail’s new room was beautiful.

“I will take care of the other bags,” Dr. Lecter said. “Feel free to unpack and make yourself at home. And be sure to close the curtains,” he added, “It’s nearly dawn.”

After Abigail had drunk from and killed her mom, she had wondered where her dad’s body was, and had asked Dr. Lecter. He told her that he had buried her father in the woods while she was unconscious.

“Your father will have no part in your new life, Abigail. How does that make you feel?” he had asked, in perfect psychiatrist form.

Abigail had thought for a moment before she said, “Free.”

They had taken her mom’s body to the woods, and Dr. Lecter had taught Abigail how to dispose of a body so that it would never be found. Then they had packed her parents’ suitcase as if they were going on a long vacation, or were abandoning their house and their lives in Minnesota. Abigail had done the same with her things. Dr. Lecter had told her not to worry too much about what she packed, since he could buy her whatever she needed when they had reached his home in Maryland.

“What are you going to do with my mom and dad’s stuff?” she had asked.

“I’m going to burn or otherwise dispose of it,” he had replied.

“In Maryland?”

“Yes.”

“So the local police don’t… find the ashes or something?”

“And to avoid drawing attention to this house for as long as possible. A large fire would too conspicuous and using the fireplace would take too long, besides adding risk of leaving behind evidence.”

Abigail had nodded and said, “Makes sense.”

“You will also need to cover the scar on your neck before we go.”

Abigail had reflexively reached up to feel her neck. “What – oh. From when my dad… I’ll get a scarf.”

Now, in her new bedroom where everything was probably expensive, Abigail fingered the edge of the burnt orange scarf around her neck as she looked down at the navy blue knit one in her suitcase. Her friend Marissa had made it for her when she had gone through her knitting phase last winter. It lay there alone, the last thing left. She and Marissa had plans to hang out at the mall on Friday. Abigail briefly imagined drinking her blood in the Forever 21 dressing room. God, she was starving.

“I see you’ve finished unpacking,” came Dr. Lecter’s voice from the doorway.

Abigail quickly shoved the blue scarf into her sock drawer and spun to face him. “Yep, just now.”

“And you closed the curtains before sunrise. Good. It’s a useful habit to get into. I keep all the curtains in the house closed during the day, but I will leave you responsible for your room.”

Abigail nodded. “I understand.” So far it felt like it was best to be as respectful and polite to Dr. Lecter as she could. It seemed like he demanded that sort of thing and she suspected that if she got on his bad side he could end her undeath as easily as he had begun it.

“You should rest,” Dr. Lecter said. He turned to leave.

She didn’t really feel tired, and she didn’t want him to go. “You don’t sleep during the day though, right, Dr. Lecter? You wouldn’t be able to have a psychiatric practice.”

He turned back, once again filling the doorway. “That is correct, Abigail. As you get older, you will also require less sleep, and you will be able to feed less often.”

“I’m hungry now,” Abigail said. She cringed internally at how childish she sounded. She tried to cover her tracks. “Is that normal?”

Abigail thought she saw Dr. Lecter’s lips curl up briefly as he entered the room. “It’s perfectly normal, especially at your age. Vampires are creatures of desire. From the moment we are created we lust for blood, flesh, wealth, prestige, destruction … but we must curb our desires in order to avoid the scrutiny of humans. Through time and necessity you will learn self-control, but it is too early for that. This time you may drink from me.” He took a seat on the edge of her bed. “Come here, Abigail.”

She walked to him, sure that she wanted what he was offering, but not sure how to go about getting it. She stood in front of Dr. Lecter and started to lean forward to place her mouth on his neck. He gently, but firmly, pulled Abigail down so that she was sitting on his lap. “Much easier access,” he said.

There was a heat between her legs. What Dr. Lecter had said about desire was right, she realized. She wanted to rip open his throat with her teeth and lick it clean of blood. She saw herself kissing him hard on the mouth, and then him pushing her onto the expensive sheets and fucking her until she screamed. In reality, all Abigail did was say, “Thank you.”

His blood was the best thing she had ever tasted. It was strong and metallic and felt like coming home. After the first moment, Abigail wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer to him. She heard herself emit an involuntary moan. She was so immersed in the experience that Dr. Lecter had to tell her twice to stop. When she pulled away, she realized she was straddling him. She looked him in the eyes and could have sworn they glinted red.

“I’m sorry, Abigail, but I’m afraid I can’t let you drain me. I would like all of my patients to come out of their sessions alive today.” Dr. Lecter said. “I hope you’re satisfied for the time being?”

She was not satisfied, and she knew he knew it. Abigail’s first kill had been so connected to her old life that she had not yet fully taken in what she was when she fed from her mother. Now, in this huge house in the early morning, the taste of blood set her body on fire. She was no longer hungry, but she wanted, and she wanted everything.

Abigail kissed Dr. Lecter, pressing her body against his. He reciprocated the kiss, but did not escalate the situation. Abigail tried to slide her tongue into his mouth, but he pulled away. She looked to him for an explanation, trying to hide the mix of fear and frustration she was feeling.

Dr. Lecter slowly pulled the scarf from around her neck. He kissed her scar, sucking on it briefly before withdrawing. After a moment of painful silence, he said, “Abigail, don’t you remember what I told you about self-control?”

She locked eyes with him. “You said it was too early for it.”

“I did, and I said that I have much more than you. I am also the only one of us who needs to get ready for work.”

“So what you’re saying is that I can’t seduce you.”

“That is correct.”

“I didn’t really think I could,” Abigail said. “I just hoped you wanted to fuck me.”

“How much sexual experience did you have when you were alive?” Dr. Lecter asked. He said it like it was a question in a clinical study.

“Um, I gave my eighth grade boyfriend a hand job the one time I went over to his house. When I was a freshman I gave this boy I had a crush on a blowjob because I thought it would make him like me, but then he went out with this other girl. I dated this guy sophomore year and we made out a lot, and sometimes I would jerk him off or blow him and he would finger me.”

“Did you orgasm when he fingered you?”

“One time I did. We had sex a couple times too, but when I didn’t want to anymore he broke up with me.”

“Why did you stop wanting to have sex with him?”

“The first time it hurt a lot, and I thought the second time would be better, but it was worse and it freaked me out.”

“And that was the end of your sexual history.”

“Well, I masturbated for a while, but I stopped-“

“When the killing started.”

“Yeah,” Abigail said. “Did you hope I was a virgin?”

“Why would I hope for you to be a virgin?” Dr. Lecter said.

She shrugged. “So you could corrupt my innocence more or something.”

Dr. Lecter smiled slightly and kissed her scar again. His tongue on the toughened tissue made Abigail shiver. He pressed his lips softly to her cheek and said, “You were corrupted before I met you, Abigail, and I knew it. Take off your clothes.”

Surprised, Abigail stood and removed her red sweater. She thought maybe she should take off the rest of her clothes in a more sensual way, but she suspected that she would just look stupid and inexperienced if she tried. She quickly took off her socks, jeans, and underwear, and looked to Dr. Lecter. He was standing too, and had removed his suit jacket, vest, and tie. 

“Lie down on the bed with your legs facing me,” he told her.

Abigail obeyed, not sure if she was more turned on or nervous. The anticipation was contributing to both feelings.

Dr. Lecter knelt in front of her, and she realized what he was going to do. “Spread your legs for me, Abigail,” he said.

Again she complied, this time definitely more excited than nervous. Dr. Lecter kissed the ankle of one leg, then the calf, then the thigh. Then he was above her, kissing her, this time the one to slip his tongue into her mouth. No one had ever kissed Abigail this skillfully, but then, she had never kissed anyone with centuries of experience before. When she moaned into his mouth, he moved down to suck on her scar again. She let out a gasp when his teeth scraped against it.

She felt herself getting wet as Dr. Lecter started to lick her nipples and bite her breasts. Abigail could smell her arousal, which she realized was due to her new heightened senses. That meant Dr. Lecter could smell it too, probably more distinctly than she could. She felt him inhale her scent just before he pinched her left nipple, hard. Abigail mouthed a silent exclamation, "Oh!"

He twisted harder, and she fought the urge to touch herself. She had the feeling that he would take pleasure in stopping her. Dr. Lecter sucked on Abigail’s left nipple, relieving the pain somewhat, before moving on to the right. When he twisted it, her clit began to throb. “Please…” she moaned softly, and he increased the pressure. “Please, Dr. Lecter!”

“Please what, Abigail?” he said. 

His gaze was so completely predatory that it made her want to look away. Abigail had the sense that she was seeing Dr. Lecter in the light, and that she was one of the few who would survive the experience.

“Please make me come,” she said. “I need it so bad.”

His reply was to kiss down her stomach and brush his lips against her clit. Abigail bit her lip to hold back a whimper. Dr. Lecter began to lick and suck on her swollen clitoris, and it was better than any time she had ever touched herself. She gripped the bedding beneath her and closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. She wanted to see him.

Abigail felt Dr. Lecter’s tongue inside her wet cunt (she had never thought of it as a ‘cunt’ before, but she had never had anyone’s tongue inside it before either) and barely restrained what would have been a loud moan. To her surprise, he almost immediately replaced his tongue with a finger.

“You’re used to hiding your pleasure, aren’t you, Abigail?” he said. “You’ve only felt like this alone in your room, hoping your parents wouldn’t hear you.”

She nodded, and Dr. Lecter added a second finger. She moved her hips to meet his thrusts, to force his fingers deeper inside her. As he pumped them in and out of her, he said, “You don’t have to hide anymore, Abigail. You control how you feel and how you react to it. There is no one to stop you.”

He resumed sucking and licking her mound, still fucking her with two fingers. Abigail felt her orgasm building inside her as he flicked her clit with his tongue, and she couldn’t hold it in anymore. She didn’t need to. “Fuck, I’m so close!”

Dr. Lecter switched his fingers to rubbing her clit and once again started fucking her now soaking cunt with his tongue. The sensation was too much. Abigail’s fists tightened around the bedcovers. She wrapped her legs around Dr. Lecter’s shoulders. “Ahhh… aaahhh… AAAAHHH!”

Abigail came hard, throwing her head back as Dr. Lecter continued to lick her through her orgasm. When it was over, he stood above the young woman on the bed and allowed himself to take in her naked, spent form. She was lovely, and he had made her this way. Abigail smiled up at him, undoubtedly satisfied. 

“I think you’ll agree now that you could use some rest.”

Abigail nodded. “Uh huh.”

“Then I will see you after sunset. Sleep well.”

“Okay.”

After he closed the door to her room behind him, Hannibal heard Abigail sleepily call, “Have a good day at work!”

He wondered if that was how she used to send her father off in the morning, or if Garrett Jacob Hobbs had left for work before his daughter woke up to get ready for school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have officially written vampire porn now.


End file.
